Neverland (snowbaz)

A Parcel of Truths

Simon wakes up alone. He can't stop grinning about last night and how he and Baz kissed for so long. How good it felt to kiss Baz. How good anything feels when Baz is there. He wonders, briefly, if he's a fool for falling for Baz so quickly. After all, he's really only known him a day, but he knows that there's more to it. He's known Baz for years, in a way. All those nights of stories and crying and fighting and Simon heard all of it. He knows that Baz likes to play to violin when he's upset or feeling emotional about something. That Baz has a little sister who he would go to the ends of the earth for. That Baz loves a story. That he wants to be saved. 

Is Simon saving him? He certainly hopes so. 

But now Baz isn't here and Simon is alone again. He hates being alone. Back in London, he was always so fucking alone. All of the time. It didn't matter if there were people around because it was the kind of loneliness that ate him away from the inside. The kind that filled him up until there was no room for anything else.  It nearly killed him. It was why he had to get away––why he spent all those nights in Hyde Park. If he was always going to feel alone, no matter what, he thought it would be better for him to just be alone. 

But then Penny found him and he wasn't lonely anymore, even when she was there. She listened to him. She cared. She was there for him when the rest of the world turned its back on him.

So he gets up to find her. If he can't be with Baz now, at least he can be with Penny. She'll know what to do about Baz, he figures. He decides he won't tell her that they kissed (even though that violates their no secrets pact they made ages ago) but he'll see if she knows where Baz has gone off to. If she doesn't have a clue, which he feels is probably impossible, he can at least fill her in on all of the Humdrum nonsense from the day before. Maybe he'll tell her what Baz said, about them looking alike. She'll probably get a kick out of that.

He finds her upstairs. That's where her little apartment is. He still isn't entirely sure what moved her to leave the rest of the fairies behind and live with him, but he doesn't ask anymore. He tried, once, and she got all upset about it. Turned red, even. So he doesn't push her. If she wants to elaborate, he'll be there to listen. 

"Hey, Pen," he says, entering the room. 

She's making him tea, it seems. She never makes it for herself. She tried it once and the caffeine and sugar made her go mental for a few hours. She hasn't tried it since. 

She smiles at him and flutters over, getting right up in his face. "Where were you yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" Simon asks, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. "There is no yesterday. Just what was and what is and what might be." It's a bit of a game they play––joking around about the concept of time in Neverland. It hurts his stomach if he thinks about time too much, and Penny knows this. That's why she plays along.

She glares at him.

Well, usually plays along.

He groans. "Come on, Pen. I was showing Baz around."

She huffs and rolls her eyes. The kettle whistles (Simon remembers bringing that kettle back. It caused a lot of drag) and Penny hurries over to the fire to move it. She's pretty strong for such a tiny thing. 

"Fairies are like ants, Simon," she'd told him once when he asked how such a small creature could lift such heavy things. "We can carry things way over our body weight. Only, with fairies, it's because of magic, not science."

"How do the ants use the science?" he had asked. Because he was a moron.

"You got yourself into trouble again, didn't you?"